


Whose War Is It Anyway?

by venefica_aura (crankyoldman)



Series: Psychobabble [18]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:43:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyoldman/pseuds/venefica_aura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veld won't kill Hojo because he's all that's left of a time and a generation. Hojo abuses this fact time and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose War Is It Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some lyrics from the Coldplay song "Don't Panic" because that is what prompted this story.

When Veld drank, he had this awful tendency to hear things that weren't there. Voices of people he was sure were dead, had seen die, and voices of people that had never existed. He knew it was a sign that he was slowly going crazy over the years, but he'd drank a lot

tonight, and it was almost as if there was shouting in his ears.

 

He was getting really tired of being the one left alive. Really tired.

 

Like he could almost imagine that Hojo was sitting in the lounge too. Not that Hojo was dead, but he never ventured...

 

...wait that was Hojo.

 

"The fuck you doing around here, eh?" He knew he was slurring badly and probably unintelligible. Not that he cared, really. Hojo could shoot him, experiment on him, whatever the hell that man got off on, he didn't really care. He was feeling piss drunkenly self pitying and mildly suicidal.

 

_Oh, we're sinking like stones, all that we've fought for_

 

"This is where the booze is. Really, you Turks should lock up your fridge." Veld was suddenly and painfully aware that Hojo had been around nearly as long as he was.

 

"Why are you here, really, Hojo. I know you don't get drunk with Turks typically."

 

The man shifted. "I wanted to talk, Veld." He snorted.

 

"If this ends with a needle in my arm, the deal is off. You wanna kill me, do it cleanly." Hojo smirked.

 

"If I had wanted to kill you, I would do it while you were so conspicuously sleeping in your office. Afraid to go home?" Veld scowled.

 

"Are you?"

 

_All those places we've gone, all of us are done for._

 

Hojo tipped back a bottle of clear and most likely firey liquid. Gods, Veld hated alcohol. So just why did he keep getting himself painfully drunk in the lounge after hours?

 

"I have a few questions. If your reputation with alcohol is correct, and I know that it is, you'll answer truthfully." A dim light, the only one Veld had bothered to turn on reflected off of Hojo's glasses. He looked less than human like that.

 

"I may have to kill you afterwards. Just saying."

 

"Oh, undoubtedly. And then Shinra will do worse to you. You really have been drinking, haven't you? Do Turks really feel guilt?"

 

"Fuck off and leave or ask your damn questions." Hojo smiled faintly.

 

"Do you know how Ifalna died? I know that you were there." The bottle in his hand slipped from his fingers. He attempted to scowl, but it came out more like a wince.

 

"...Do you know how Valentine died? I know you were there." He deadpanned. Hojo barked out a laugh.

 

"You have such a dry sense of humor, really. I honestly don't care whatever may have gone on with you two, and considering as Gast is no more, there will be no scientist husbands chasing you with a gun either. I am just sorting through all my files and the one labelled 'Gast, I' is inconclu—"

 

"SHUT UP."

 

Hojo closed his mouth. Veld's hand twitched.

 

_We live in a beautiful world, yeah we do, yeah we do_

 

"She was a human being. I don't care that you want to know how she died for your gods damned files, but for gods sake... pretend that you're concerned out of a more than professional interest so I don't have to kill you?" He had thoughts of killing Hojo years ago, but considering as the man was the only link to what he used to be, he hesitated. And when Veld hesitated, bad things tended to happen.

 

"You and I both know she wasn't really human. So please, stop this self righteous talk. You sound like Vincent, and we all know what happened to him." More glint from the glasses. Hojo was pissed off.

 

"Do we now? Care to enlighten me? I've got a file that says 'Valentine, V' that is inconclusive too, Hojo." Veld was also pissed off. You just didn't come up and mention mistakes and dead people when someone was drunk off their ass alone in the Turk lounge. Hell, he wanted to be alone for a reason. If he'd wanted company, he'd call Tseng; that kid begged for his company. Their conversations were almost like friends now. But it was all substituation, and he knew it. Another thing to hate himself for.

 

Only rookies trying to rise up above him and board members that were frightened of him bothered anymore. Which was why Hojo was almost important, in a twisted way.

 

"...she was going to die anyway. That's why she ran."

 

Veld's eyes opened wider. Hojo continued. "She knew she was going to die soon, so she got that lovely daughter of hers out while she still had the strength. She maybe would have lived a couple extra weeks if she hadn't. What I would like to know is, did one of your Turks shoot her?"

 

"No." For a flicker of a moment he thought Hojo was acting human. The kind of man this particularly dead woman referred to as 'Toshi' and had an allergy to alfalafa beans. Oh yes, he'd listened to every rambling word she'd said. She was insane too, but a different kind. Veld had a tendency to draw the crazies to him, because insanity loves company, wasn't it?

 

_We live in a beautiful world_

 

"Not even you, Veld?" The question hung in the air. Hojo had clearly learned all the diversion tactics, the wordplay, the gods fucking damned code or something... he'd always found the man intelligent, but this was cold and sharp and far beyond intelligence. Almost as if he were being driven by a will not his own.

 

"You killed your wife didn't you? You think by poking Ifalna's corpse you'll get her back? What does that matter, didn't get a proper autopsy? Or did her body disappear into ashes before you could pin her in a glass case!?" He shouted when he was displeased. But his tone had dipped into that low and half crazed tone he used when he was having an episode. He was far too drunk to actually do anything too harmful, Hojo might lose a limb but nothing major. The man had done his homework. Probably had kept tabs on everyone's files in the department. Especially the ones they kept in the basement.

 

Hojo stood up, took a few steady paces, leaned over to where he was sitting on the floor and slapped him. Hard. No other current board member would have even stepped up to him in the same room at this point. Veld Dragoon had a reputation. A bad one. Any day now he expected the President to figure out a way to 'disappear' him.

 

Considering that a nerdy little guy like Toshiro Hojo had just slapped him, and it had actually hurt... it could be safe to say he'd hit bottom.

 

_Oh, we're sinking like stones, all that we've fought for._

 

He laughed. It didn't feel human when he laughed, and it felt less human when Hojo did it too. They were the only ones left, but Veld was relishing in the knowledge that Hojo would most likely be the last one. Old men with death wishes didn't tend to last long in his line of work.

 

"Now that you've stopped sounding like self-pitying idiot, will you answer my question? I'm willing to overlook that very low and uncharacteristic insult for the sake of knowledge." For the sake of knowledge. Veld knew exactly what knowledge he was seeking now.

 

Veld closed his eyes. "Yes, I did."

 

"Did you shoot her then?" He shook his head. Hojo raised an eyebrow.

 

"Then what did you do, Veld?" His name echoed for a few minutes.

 

"I snapped her neck. It was clean, fast, painless."

 

"...Did she ask you to?" Veld shook his head again. Hojo's other eyebrow shot up.

 

"So exactly how does this aid in your research, Doctor Hojo?"

 

The silence filled the room again. He realized his question was more rhetorical anyway. He wasn't a scientist. He'd fancied himself a scholar once, but like many things, he'd simply brushed them under the rug. Hell, Hojo had slapped him. Hojo. The only other person that had been here long enough to be as batshit as he was. They both had a wife and a few lovers buried between the two of them. Though, unlike Hojo, Veld was glad his wife was dead. His only connection to the outside world was severed that way. Of course, sticking to his own kind had proved equally disappointing. And well, he'd just divulged how he and Ifalna had ended.

 

And gods, he had to stop drinking like this. It used to be only once a year. Now? Once a week. For a person with a terrible alcohol tolerance to begin with, it was... no wonder the scientist had crawled out of his lab.

 

He was acting like _him._

 

All those places we've gone, all of us are done for.

 

"Hojo, I want you to take this bottle and either drink it yourself or give it to one of your techs." The man smirked, in an old almost friendly way. This was the part where Veld would start retching his guts out, so it almost seemed appropriate. He and Hojo were never friends by any stretch of the imagination. They merely shared a great many inconvenient connections to one another. He figured he would add one more while he was at it.

 

Veld nudge the bottle from where it had rolled after he let go of it with his foot. Hojo reached down and picked it up carefully holding it out as if it were diseased.

 

"You won't catch any cooties, gods." He was going to have one hell of a hangover. But watching Hojo handle the bottle triggered an epiphany in his brain. He hadn't been hearing voices.

 

He'd been talking to himself. No wonder the scientist had come out of his lair. The man regarded the dark liquid in the bottle before uncapping it and taking a swig. He promptly spit it all over the couch that he knew Reno and some of his more messy encounters had occupied. There was a reason he sat on the floor.

 

_We live in a beautiful world, yeah we do, yeah we do, we live in a beautiful world._

 

"This tastes like shit."

 

"I know."

 

"And I most likely have five new diseases now."

 

"You're the one that has my medical records. You know I'm clean. Miraculously."

 

The silence was awkward now. Hojo most likely wanted to leave already, and soon Veld's stomach would finally protest him into a bathroom. But they were both hesitating on something, and Veld could feel as if some external will was poking behind Hojo's head.

 

"We never found the body, you know. The only reason we knew she was dead was because of that crazy daughter of hers."

 

"I also know that." Hojo wasn't the only one who had done his homework. He knew every intimate detail to that little girl's whereabouts, one of the few promises he hadn't broken yet. He'd prepped Tseng to be able to operate on his own and everything. He owed that woman more than anyone could fathom.

 

"So you buried her."

 

"Of course I did. Or something fancier. Either way, it's a secret that I will be taking to my fastly approaching grave, alcohol or not." He got up slowly, his knees ached. Midgar was due in for another rain. Hojo was glaring and he felt something was right in the world. He suspected his beloved Lucrecia was holed up in some kind of fancy place. Probably with ice. Something seemed fitting with that.

 

But Ifalna was simpler than Lucrecia, and finding a place to let her rest was an easy task. And likely one that Hojo would overlook.

 

_Oh, all that I know, there's nothing here to run from_

 

"Sneaky Turk bastard."

 

"The original."

 

They had gone their separate ways then, only to meet up after that crazy eyed general finally figured out what his insanity was. Considering the damage he must have done when he was younger, this was a lot of crazy. Veld had stayed behind in headquarters, he never liked fire anyway. His kids had done a fine job handling the situation, and he felt comfortable leaving Tseng in charge now. Like he was setting out his will, pieces at a time.

 

And when he and the good doctor converged again in that town, Veld didn't say much, instead letting the crazy coot chatter on about nostalgia and old missions. Once or twice he tried to gain a bit of information on Ifalna's resting place, and once or twice Veld had responded with a cold lack of answer. He couldn't fault the man for trying. The woman was special, and Hojo was starting to realize the weight of being the last one alive.

 

But there were cities to cover up and people's eyes to ignore. And it wasn't his place to kill Hojo, if that was what God dealt him. They were both going to be struck down by their blind spots. It was only a matter of time. Funny how the last time they spoke was in Nibelheim. Where everything really began and ended.

 

"You ever wonder what would have happened if you'd never become a Turk, Veld?"

 

"I would be dead."

 

"Besides that."

 

"I would probably be a professor, I would think."

 

"Hrm. Funny. I was just thinking if I hadn't become a doctor, I would have most likely have become a soldier."

 

"Wonders never cease."

 

_And there, everybody here's got somebody to lean on._


End file.
